


Don't even think about it

by Laramie



Series: Things you said [20]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning for serious illness, but it has a happy ending.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for serious illness, but it has a happy ending.

**July 1953**

They were sitting at the table in the kitchen, eating breakfast together, when an inexplicable feeling of great anxiety crept over Jimmy. His chest felt tight with it. He did not know why he was anxious and that only made him more afraid. Why was he nervous? What had he forgotten?

"Thomas," he whimpered, gasping for breath. There were tears in the corners of his eyes.

Thomas was alarmed, rising immediately from his chair and hobbling over without picking up his walking stick. "What's the matter?" he asked, leaning heavily on the table with one hand.

"I don't know." Jimmy hunched forwards. "I'm scared, I don't know why."

"It's all right, you're safe," Thomas said, putting his free hand on Jimmy's shoulder. He tried to ignore the twinges in his knees. "It's okay."

Jimmy was panting, his eyes flickering everywhere as though he was looking for danger. His hand crept up, apparently without Jimmy's conscious thought, and he massaged over his left shoulder and down his upper arm.

"Does your arm hurt?" Thomas asked, going cold all over as some part of him recognised the picture before him.

"Aches a bit," Jimmy muttered. "What's happening?"

Thomas had a split-second to decide, and he opted not to say that he thought Jimmy was having a heart attack for fear of scaring him more and making it worse. "We should get you checked out," he said as calmly as he could. He tried to take long, deep breaths and not hyperventilate. If Jimmy died, he couldn't take it. "You just stay here, I'm going to telephone an ambulance."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Jimmy said with a weak smile, even as he fought for breath. "Just an achey arm or something."

Thomas kissed the top of his head firmly and left him at the table to go to the telephone in the hall, swiping his walking stick as he passed. In the hall, he turned the telephone dial to _9, 9, 9_.

"Emergency. Which service do you require?" asked a measured female voice on the line.

"Ambulance," Thomas said curtly.

"Putting you through." There was a moment's pause and then: "York, connecting 01904 23 687."

"Ambulance service, what's your emergency?"

Thomas felt his equilibrium shatter. "I-I think he's having a heart attack, help me." The shaking in his voice echoed the trembling of his hand clutching the phone, but he managed to convey the details of Jimmy's symptoms and their location.

When Thomas went back into the kitchen, Jimmy gasped: "I ought to tell Sam I won't be here."

"Sam?" Thomas repeated, dazed, as he stopped in front of Jimmy again. He could feel himself swaying.

"He's my first student this morning, I should tell him I won't be here."

Thomas stared at him, disbelieving. "I'm not calling Annie while you're sat here like this."

"I'll do it, then," Jimmy retorted sulkily, making to push himself up from the table.

Thomas grabbed his shoulders and held him down. "I will knock you on your backside if you even think about it," he said sternly. "Sit down, shut up, and wait for the ambulance. I'll call Anna later, she can tell them what happened."

"All right," Jimmy said. He hung his head again and groaned. "I feel funny." Tears were dripping from his eyes and his face was screwed up; Thomas realised that Jimmy was really, properly scared now.

"It's all right, love," he said. He was afraid to touch Jimmy but the need to comfort him took over; Thomas slipped his hands from their position on Jimmy's shoulders around to embrace him, and Jimmy pressed his head into Thomas's stomach. "It'll be all right, don't worry, it won't be long."

He kept murmuring reassurances until the sound of sirens broke in to their kitchen. He pulled away.

"Don't leave me!" Jimmy grabbed for him, getting a fistful of his trousers at his hip.

"I have to go and let them in," Thomas explained, extricating himself from Jimmy's grip. "I'll only be a second."

He raced to the flat door and down the stairs to open the main door. As the ambulance drew closer, Thomas waved his arms and shouted; two men jumped out and followed Thomas up the stairs.

"Don't forget to tell 'em," Jimmy said as soon as Thomas re-entered the room. "I don't want 'em thinkin' I let 'em down."

"I promise I'll tell them," Thomas assured Jimmy, as the two ambulance men fussed around him. Thomas hovered, feeling helpless, resisting the urge to butt in with his scant medical knowledge that was 35 years out of date. "Can I come with him?"

"Sorry sir, I'm afraid not. We need all the space to ensure Mr Kent gets the best care." The two of them hefted Jimmy effortlessly onto a stretcher.

As they strapped him in, Jimmy's wide eyes were fixed on Thomas. "I love you, I know I don't say it enough but I do -"

"I'll be right behind you," Thomas promised, wishing Jimmy would stop damning them both in front of strangers. "My cousin does worry," he added, to the man closest to him.

"I've seen a lot in my job, sir," the man said, lifting Jimmy on his stretcher into the air. "I've stopped being shocked by any of it. You can come in and see him later."

Thomas followed them right out the front door, but when they got into the ambulance he had to remain behind and watch Jimmy being taken away. It suddenly became very quiet, after the bustling efficiency of the ambulance crew. Thomas watched until the vehicle was out of sight before climbing the stairs in a trance. Idly, he played with his ring.

His fingers knew Anna's number without Thomas having to look it up.

"Hello, Bates Bed and Breakfast?" came Anna's cheery voice.

"Anna," Thomas said numbly. "It's Jimmy. I mean, I'm not. He's…"

"Goodness, whatever's the matter?" She sounded more serious now.

"Jimmy's had a heart attack; I had to get an ambulance."

Thomas heard Anna gasp. "Oh, no," she said. "Are you with him now?"

"No, I couldn't go with him. I'll go in a minute, but he wanted you to tell Annie that he can't do Sam's lesson."

Anna tutted. "My daughter will be far more worried about her godfather being in hospital than she will about Sam missing his lesson; Jimmy should know that. Now Thomas, I'm coming over. John can look after things here - it'll be a nice reminder of why he's supposed to be retiring. You get yourself to the hospital and I'll get on the next train I can find, okay?"

"Okay," Thomas echoed, grateful for Anna's unwavering ability to cut through his panic and tell him exactly what he should do next.

"I'll call Phyllis for you: I know she'll want to know."

"Okay," Thomas repeated.

"I'll see you in a couple of hours," Anna said firmly. "Get a taxi, it'll stop you worrying about buses."

"Okay," Thomas agreed, and put the phone down to set about doing just that.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas got to the hospital as fast as he could, thoroughly annoying the taxi driver with his orders to drive faster. He was then forced to sit twitching in a corridor for what felt like months. He was itching to pace, to let out some of his nervous energy, but his 62-year-old knees would not have borne it. When did he get so old? For God's sake, Annie was nearly thirty now, and Thomas had been to her Christening.

He lurched back and forth between believing that Jimmy would be fine and staring into the abyss that was life without him. Sometimes he was convinced that Jimmy was already dead in another mystery room in this hospital, and nobody had told him. He wanted to be with Jimmy; he couldn't bear it if Jimmy died alone, when Thomas was not able to be there. He half-regretted calling the ambulance, if that was what would happen. He couldn't bear it if Jimmy died alone.

He couldn't bear it.

When Thomas was finally allowed to see Jimmy, he rushed down the corridor to Jimmy's room. Jimmy was sitting in a chair looking very tired.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Thomas blurted out.

"It's some new thing," Jimmy explained. "Sitting up is supposed to be better for you than lying down."

"They'd better be right." He pulled the curtain closed around them, making their own little hideaway.

"I'm sure they know what they're doing. Come and hold my hand."

Thomas did as he was told, taking comfort in the solidity of Jimmy's hand even though his grip was weak. He sat on the bed next to Jimmy's chair and just held on, fiddling with Jimmy's plain gold ring and drinking in the sight of his slightly wrinkled but oh-so-alive face.

"What happens now?" Thomas asked hoarsely.

"I think they're giving me some medicine to keep taking. _And_ I have to give up _smoking_ ," he added sulkily.

"Ha," Thomas said vaguely, deciding it was best not to gush about what a miracle it was that Jimmy was still alive. "Anna's coming."

"Is she? Okay. Did she tell Annie?"

"Yes, love." Thomas played with Jimmy's fingers, feeling the warmth of them, oddly disoriented by the normal conversation when Thomas wanted to dance and scream and shout that Jimmy was _alive_.

"Stop lookin' at me like I'm a ghost," Jimmy said, ducking his head.

Before Thomas could reply, a rustling noise came from the curtain, causing them both to look round. They saw Annie poking her head through the gap.

"Bringing you a little friend," she said, which was code for ' _Sam's here, try not to look like you're in love with each other'._ They had told Annie about their relationship when she was younger, but Sam did not yet know to avoid him letting out the information to someone he shouldn't. They would tell him one day. Hopefully this generation would be more accepting than their own.

But they would never tell him that in the past, on more than one occasion, they had made love on the very piano bench he now sat on to take his lessons with Jimmy. There were some things the boy did not need to know. Thomas could not help it if Jimmy looked so handsome with his head bent over the upright piano, with his increasingly stiff but still beautiful fingers tripping across the keys. In fairness, Jimmy was not exactly difficult to distract in that respect, and so it was not uncommon, a few years ago, for him to spin around on the bench, lean back against the piano and grin from ear to ear as Thomas straddled him.

It was definitely not a habit they needed to tell Sam about. Accordingly, Thomas let go of Jimmy, clasping his hands in his lap instead.

"Hello, Annie," said Jimmy, his face lighting up as their goddaughter came through the gap in the curtain, Sam in tow.

"Oh come on, my name's Joanne," Annie said, with all the exasperation of someone who had been repeating that sentence endlessly in the 15-or-so years since she had decided that the Annie nickname was juvenile and she wanted to be called Joanne. Neither Thomas nor Jimmy had ever got used to it.

Meanwhile, Sam slipped out of his mother's hand and ran over to throw his arms around Jimmy; Thomas stepped in to help when Jimmy tried to pull the boy up onto his lap. Sam's brown skin made Jimmy look even paler by comparison. "How's my favourite god-grandson?" said Jimmy.

"Do you have another god-grandson?" Sam asked, wriggling to get comfortable on Jimmy's lap.

"No. But that doesn't stop you being my favourite."

While Sam and Jimmy debated the specifics of the mechanism of favouritism, Thomas asked Annie: "And how's my favourite goddaughter?"

"Well enough," she replied. "Ben made me a daisy chain necklace the other day."

Ben, Annie's husband, was a warehouse worker and not a rich man, but he tried his best. He had come out of the war with a shrapnel wound in his stomach and chronic insomnia. Thomas sympathised.

The sound of childish laughter interrupted them.

"Don't I get a cuddle?" Thomas asked Sam, turning to intercept lest Sam get too boisterous.

"Mummy said poorly people need cuddles most," Sam said, snuggling closer against Jimmy's chest and turning his head to look up at Thomas.

Jimmy gave Thomas a triumphant smile.

"And your mother is a very wise woman, so I definitely need cuddles because I am a sick, sick man," Thomas said, deadpan.

Sam looked at him with wide, serious eyes for a few seconds, before his small face creased into giggles. "No you're not!"

"Ah, well." Thomas ruffled the boy's tightly curled hair. "It was worth a try."

Sam did eventually consent to cuddle up to Thomas for a bit, while his mother threatened Jimmy with bodily harm if he didn't give up smoking like the doctor had advised. They ended up bickering: Jimmy maintained that he was a grown-up who did not need mollycoddling, while Annie insisted that anyone who had just had a _heart attack_ deserved to be mollycoddled at least a little. Thomas smiled indulgently in response to Jimmy's _'can you believe her?!'_ glances, fully intending to do some mollycoddling of his own later on.

They were in the middle of the argument, while Thomas and Sam played boats with two bedpans they had found under Jimmy's unoccupied bed, when Anna arrived.

"How are you feeling, Jimmy?" she asked.

"Will people stop treating me like I've died?" Jimmy said loudly. "I'm fine!"

Thomas almost shouted: "You nearly _did_ die!", but did not want to worry Sam any more than necessary. Instead, he glared at Jimmy for making light of their concern.

"Maybe we should leave you in peace for a little while," Anna suggested, sounding amused. "Come on, Joanne."

"Okay," Annie agreed, still shooting daggers at Jimmy. "We'll see you later, Ticky. C'mon Tock, you can come back later," she added to Thomas.

"All right, then," Thomas agreed grudgingly, not eager to let Jimmy out of his sight for a second.

"I wanna stay!" Sam shouted, over the top of him. "Me and Tock are playin' boats!"

"We can play boats later," Thomas told him. "Come on, now." He shepherded Sam over to Annie before turning for one last word to Jimmy, revelling in the opportunity to say: "See you later, Jimmy."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by todowntononanimpala from a prompt post: "I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it."


End file.
